Pietari Inkinen’s Sibelius cycle continues to frustrate. His is the
third set of Jean Sibelius’ symphonies to be released by Naxos, third
in chronology and, so far, in quality as well. The first volume featured an
impressive if undistinguished Third Symphony and a flabby, energy-less First.
The present volume is just as inconsistent, for its Fourth is at times gripping
but others curiously slack, and the Fifth is a gangly, awkward interpretation
which feels askew and commits an unpardonable sin.

The Fourth Symphony is probably the toughest to crack in the Sibelius canon,
or perhaps I say that because I’ve only warmed to it in the past twelve
months. Too long I’d been put off by the nihilism, the lack of a foothold
to use while ascending its bleak face. Two comparatively swift accounts, by
Berglund with the Helsinki Philharmonic and Ashkenazy with the Philharmonia,
provided an easier introduction to this symphony’s sound-world.

Inkinen’s account is a curious one. The opening bars are all bassoons,
no cellos or basses; the cello solo afterward, though, is absolutely fantastic.
One thing that has been consistently outstanding in this series has been the
solo work of members of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. The remainder
of the first movement actually goes extremely well; it’s the best performance
on the disc, a dramatic arc of fierce intensity and moments of great beauty.

Then comes trouble. The scherzo brings a total lack of bite or attack in the
string section, as if they are playing a Tchaikovsky ballet, and things start
to fall apart from that point. For entries of the winds and brass Inkinen
brings the tempo to a standstill, not that the scherzo was particularly “molto
vivace” to start with. Clearly Inkinen intended the darkness of
the second half to come as a surprise, but this is a miscalculation: it sounds
tacked on! The only thing that works is the startling fade-out at the end.

The slow movement is clinical, the phrases disjointed in a way which would
have really put me off when I didn’t appreciate this symphony. In some
conductors’ hands this largo sounds like one massive tragic arc;
in others it sounds like a series of unrelated thoughts jotted on a pad. Inkinen
is closer to the latter than the former. The finale slipped in quietly with
what I thought was intelligent, discreet subtlety, until it turned out that
nearly the entire movement would be played with that same quiet sensitivity,
which works well in some episodes and badly in others. The sad, lilting second
subject around 2:45 is heartbreaking, but the engineers have, through microphone
misplacement, made other portions sound like a glockenspiel concerto.

The Fifth, as I said, is awkward. It feels like a teenage boy who is a full
head taller than his classmates and not yet sure how to use his bulk. What
do I mean? The first movement moves strangely, clumsily, across its landscape;
some moments are fast when they should be slow (2:38, 3:50), or slow when
they should be fast (12:48-13:13); heroic when they should be cowed (7:30-8:05),
or tender when they should be heroic (the chord at 4:51, the strings after
10:10). Where are the timpani and brass at the big transition point? Why is
the coda so unexciting? Actually, I can answer that: timid horns at 13:12,
lack of presence for the timpani, and the fact that the build-up beginning
around 12:00 is unusually dull. The slow movement, at 9:39, feels almost like
a nocturne, still and solemn: Inkinen is actually slower than Celibidache
(9:21) here, let alone Davis/LSO (8:08) or Vänskä (8:47). The nocturnal
feel really works, though it forces the oboist into a solo (after 8:00) that
sounds forced.

In the finale, something quite shocking happens: while delivering the glorious
“swan hymn”, the French horns sound ugly. I didn’t
think it possible! But they have a nasty bite, a muted harshness, which boggles
the mind. Intonation is suspect and the phrasing, with certain notes “pointed”
and the graceful flow of the notes made clunky and fitful, is grating to the
ears. Then the trumpets cut in too quickly at 6:30 and the final orchestral
build-up fails to bring euphoria or a sense of entry into the heavens. Add
to this the ponderous first movement, the poorly-timed final chords (too,
too fast!), and slightly charmless recorded sound. Besides the timpani and
glockenspiel complaints, it lacks the depth or vividness of Naxos recordings
from Warsaw, Scotland, Seattle, and Liverpool.

Even in the Naxos catalogue there are superior alternatives. Adrian Leaper
and the Slovak Philharmonic have turned in a surprisingly good Sibelius Fifth;
the first movement is rather fast for my taste, but in the finale the Slovak
horns overcome their traditional shyness and make some beautiful sounds. Better
still is Petri Sakari’s recording with the Iceland Symphony, which,
once you turn the volume up, is outstanding. It’s one of my top five
choices for the Fifth, in fact, alongside names as illustrious as Celibidache,
Berglund (EMI), and Vänskä - though behind the titanic, euphoric
performance by Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. The only blemish
on Sakari’s account is a strange clicking sound in the finale which
might be a chair squeaking but is terribly distracting and strikes at exactly
the wrong moments.

Casting the net more broadly, there are far too many great recordings of these
symphonies to patronize these. In the Fourth I have a special affection for
Ashkenazy, but Berglund is also excellent, and Bernstein’s (NY/Sony)
brings a very special touch of pathos to the final bars - though Lenny did
add church bells to the finale for good measure. The Fifth Symphony is an
incredibly difficult work to conduct well, but Vänskä’s reading
is near-perfect technically, Bernstein’s the most satisfying emotionally,
and Sakari a satisfying option at Naxos price.

All that remains to be asked is: how did Pietari Inkinen bring about such
lively performances of Sibelius’ incidental theatre music (King Christian
II, Scenes historiques, Kuolema) and follow them up with
such overcooked recordings of the symphonies? Klaus Heymann has remarked that
he only approved recording a new symphony cycle because the earlier discs
were so good. The first problem was that Inkinen had previously recorded no
top-drawer Sibelius, unless you count the Valse triste and Night
Ride and Sunrise. The second problem was that much of this incidental
music is in an old-fashioned romantic idiom, even Tchaikovskian at times,
which is well-suited to a lush, low-energy approach. Anyone who conducts Valse
triste with the same craggy, heroic sense of struggle they bring to Symphony
No. 5 has a problem. Unfortunately, Pietari Inkinen conducts the Symphony
No. 5 with the same laid-back, clarity-first prettiness he brings to Valse
triste.